


Pretty ★ Kitty

by Savorysavery



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cat Ears, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Lingerie, Romance, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savorysavery/pseuds/Savorysavery





	Pretty ★ Kitty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Apricitic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apricitic/gifts).



 

 **Summary:** Marinette comes home to a special surprise.

 **Genres:** Smut, Romance, Fluff

 **Rated:** Explicit

 **Author’s Note:** This is set in a future where our lovely protagonists are married in the future, roughly a decade after the current events of Season 1. In this fic, they know about one another’s alter ego, and often call each other by pet names derived from such. In example is Marinette calling Adrien kitty, outside the context of Chat Noir. Honestly, this is just a fluff piece written before I cook dinner. I hope you all enjoy. 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a long day bent over a desk, but Marinette wouldn’t trade it for the world.

She comes in to her home -an apartment above her tailor shop, which is shuttered for the night- and bolts the door, toeing off her shoes with a sigh. Instantly, her back unknots, and she knows she’s fully _home_ , and can relax.

“Adrien?” Marinette calls out, turning on a lamp with a clap. She doesn’t hear a thing though, and sets down her bag, crossing the living room to the hall, then turning to head to the bedroom.

There’s a dim, butter yellow light peeking out from the bottom of the door, and Marinette knows Adrien is home: assumes he’s plugged in to his headphones, listening to music, or deep in a book. Without hesitation, she pushes the door, a smile on her face: he’s the best part of coming home at night, the best part of shutting up shop at the end of the day. “Adrien,” Marinette chirps. “I’m-“

She pauses and sees that indeed, her husband isn’t listening to music. There’s no headphones, no laptop, not even a music player or a phone. In fact, there’s **nothing** , and it’s that that makes Marinette pause.

Adrien is there alright: he’s stretched across the bed, nude save for a pair of lacy black briefs, clinging to his tanned skin, legs and arms slung out across the bed, accenting how tall he is, how sculpted his form is. They hang _low_ , slung across his slightly wide hips, stretching taut, and cup the roundness of his buttocks so tight that it makes Marinette gasp. She presses a hand to her mouth, and leans against the door, eyeing Adrien Agreste, her wonderful husband, up and down. She’s almost done eyeing him when she catches a slip of black fabric on his head, and realizes that her husband, of all things, is wearing _cat ears_.

They’re fluffy, actually, with dark fabric tucked inside, black from tip to headband, just like the ears of his transformation. Unlike those, they’re not pleather, but invitingly soft, and Marinette’s hand itches to reach out and touch them.

Adrien, of course, looks pleased as punch, a pretty kitty sprawled across the mattress.

“Oh. My. Goodness,” Marinette whispers, pressing a fist to her mouth to muffle her slightly nervous laughter. After a decade of seeing Adrien in cat ears, she would have thought it wouldn’t have gotten to her like this, but amidst her laughter, she feels something else: a slight bit of arousal, pooling dead center between her legs.

“Good evening, bugaboo,” Adrien greets, flipping his hair. It was enough to make Marinette sigh in high school, and at twenty-six, it’s certainly enough to make her sigh now, the soft sound slipping from he lips. “Did you have a nice day?”

“I did,” Marinette replies, and she steps into the bedroom, pushes up the door, and crosses to sit on the bed. “It was good business: I got ten new orders, all for custom designs.”

“Ah, wonderful,” Adrien replies. Marinette clears her throat and nods, eyes darting down to those lacy black boxers. Adrien shifts, from stomach to back -on purpose, of course- and Marinette sees just how _close_ they are. It makes her gulp audibly, throat bobbing as she forces down a swallow.

“So…” Marinette begins, and she feels her cheeks heat up, burning a fierce red, and motions to her husband with her left hand, right pressing to her forehead.

“Ah, my special surprise for you,” Adrien says, winking. He adjusts up and with a quick hand, snatches Marinette down to lay next to him. She lets out a squeak, pinned part beneath him, and feels her blush intensify.

 “Oddly enough, Alya recommended it. Something about me looking like Chat Noir and all that.” Marinette’s rolls her eyes in good humor, and her blush fades a bit.

Without asking, her hand weasels itself from between them, and come to touch the cat ears. They’re just as soft as she thought, fleece insides sliding under the pad of her thumb, and she sighs, arousal sparking again, cutting through the embarrassment. “Wow,” Marinette whispers. “Oh my god, you’re wearing lingerie our _friend_ picked out.”

“Can’t husbands wear something nice for their wives?”

“Cat ears though? And lacy lingerie that _Alya_ , my _best_ friend, recommended?” Marinette snaps at the band of the underwear, making Adrien yelp in surprise. His hips cant when he does, and he grinds against Marinette’s thigh, making them both whimper out moans.

“Do you not like it?” Adrien asks. “I thought you’d like your kitty to be pretty,” Adrien breathes, peppering Marinette’s cheeks with feather light kisses. “At least, you used to,” he teases, nuzzling his cheek against her’s.

“I suppose I still do,” Marinette teasingly replies, smiling gently. “Didn’t we save Paris again yesterday?”

“True, true,” Adrien says, and this time, when he kisses Marinette, it’s slow and deep and _welcoming_ , a blissfully passionate kiss that makes her want to divest her clothes. It’s the kind of kiss that shoves out _all_ embarrassment, enough that she’s reacting, shifting Adrien’s right hand to hitch up her shirt, left to undo the fly of her jeans. He does both, nimble fingers sliding the button and zip down, right hand pushing her shirt up high enough that it bunches at her bra catching on the bottom of the cups. “Sit up for me, bug?”

Marinette sits up through a haze of wanting, feels Adrien undo her bra, slide her shirt up and off her shoulders and arms, and then she’s back beneath him, grinding against him, steadily wiggling out of her jeans. The air around her is blissfully _hot_ , and now, even the jeans are too much, enough that she bucks Adrien off her, yanks off her jeans, and slides her hand down between her legs, whimpering as her palm ghosts across the crotch of her underwear.

“Am I doing this to you?” Adrien’s question hangs in the air, and when Marinette peeps from her eyes, she sees a grinning husband, green eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” Marinette replies, and she bucks against her own hand. “Though I’d love for you to be doing more.”

The answer is enough for Adrien to yank the crotch of Marinette’s underwear to the side and slide down her body, hard erection pressing on final time into her hip, and settle between her legs, biting gently at her thighs. It’s the _exact_ kind of thing Marinette loves, and Adrien knows it, loves to _use_ it against her eagerly. He inhales sharply, smelling the hot brine of Marinette, the heat of her, and grinds against the mattress, keening softly. Marinette spreads her legs to the cool air, lets of a soft whimper of Adrien’s name, and that does it.

Adrien was never the type of person to do things in half measures: with zest, he buries his face between his wife’s legs, tongue eagerly lapping at the warm skin, and before she knows it, he’s tongue deep inside her, lick and lapping, nose nudging her clitoris. It seems Marinette bending, back curving off the bed as her whole body **flexes** , voice stuck in her throat. She’s thankful that, now, Tikki and Plagg give them a great deal more space: this isn’t a sight she wants anyone other than her husband to see.

He licks and laps at her, vigorously working Marinette over until she’s crying out Adrien’s name, hands digging into the sheets and grabbing them in fistfuls, toes curling up as she forces her legs to keep apart, pressing her hips forth. She opens up around him, and Adrien takes a chance, slides two fingers inside her and angles his thumb to press against her clitoris, and finds that he’s **lucky**.

Marinette practically screams out Adrien’s name as she feels her orgasm rush forward, a suddenly lurching feeling in her gut, and without warning, Marinette locks her legs around his head, unable to fight the spasms of her thighs. She comes hard, letting out little, breathy cries of Adrien’s name until she lets go of her clutch on the sheets, sliding down onto the mattress, legs loosing their grip. Adrien chuckles and gets up onto his knees, shucks the lacy lingerie down his legs until it’s at his knees, and clucks his tongue, cheeks and chin slick and **sticky**.

“Ah, ah, ah, my little lucky charm,” Adrien says, voice a singsong. “I’m not done with you yet, my little lovebug.” Marinette knows that if she had the strength, she’d roll her eyes at that one, but she can’t: she’s still flying, still untethered, lost in her orgasm.

“Not done?” she manages to breath out. “What else is there, kitty?”

“ _Your_ pretty kitty,” Adrien says, and he presses his palm to the slick, warm wetness of Marinette, making her suck in a quick breath, arching against him.

He leans over her to retrieve a condom from the nightstand, undoes the foil and slides it on, and before Marinette can catch her breath in full, he’s in her, hard and hot and so, so _warm_. She feels the quick pace of his heartbeat in her core, feels the desperation as he keens and mewls and thrusts hard into her, hips snapping back and forth, his hands running up and down Marinette’s body, ghosting over her breasts, gently rolling her nipples between forefinger and thumb. It’s enough to drive her crazy, ever nerve in her body on high alert.

Her orgasm comes on just as quick as before, a rushing sensation that makes her clench down hard, enough that Adrien pauses, and lets out a keening whimper. “Oh god, Mari-” is all that can escape his mouth before he shudders, pulsing inside her as he comes, hips giving two more half-hearted thrusts before he pulls out, sighing into Marinette’s neck before his energy floods out of him.

They settle into a heap of sweat tacked skin, limbs akimbo, smiles plastered lazily on their face, and eventually, Adrien pulls of the condom, ties it, and sets it on the nightstand, out of sight and out of mind. “Wow,” Marinette whispers, a giggle slipping into her voice. “Is _that_ why I married you, kitten?”

Adrien snorts and presses his nose to the nape of her neck, inhales the soft scent of her, and lets it fill his lungs, let it stuff itself inside him. Finally, he exhales, and speaks. “I think you married me because you _love_ me.”

“I also love _your_ cataclysm.”

“Are you saying I destroyed you, my dear lady?” Adrien asks, quirking a blonde brow. “Or have you come up with an affectionate name for my genitalia?”

“Both, I believe, _mon chaton_ ,” Marinette replies, wrinkling her nose as she sets into giggling.

“Well, I suppose it’s not the first time.” That earns Adrien a bashful kick, which turns to more giggling, more kissing and settles down only when he pulls a blanket about their shoulders. “So, my bedbug, are you hungry for dinner?”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Only if dinner means left over take-out from last night.” Adrien pauses, then looks at Marinette. “Plus, wouldn’t I be desert?”

“If I’m lucky, I’ll get second portions,” Marinette says, winking. “But yes, I am hungry, pretty kitty. Want to bundle up and go to the kitchen?”

“It’d be my pleasure,” Adrien says, and he scoops his wife up, kissing her long and deep. “I’ll even press the

“And yet…what if I want another taste of desert before dinner?” Marinette muses, blue eyes wide. Adrien’s eyes grow wide, and as if a trick of light, they seem silted suddenly as if the magic inside him has activated without Plagg. It’s a _hungry_ stare renewed, and warms Marinette all over. She feels him rut against her hip, feels his hardness already returning, and smiles, tilting her head to see him from the corner of her eye with ease.

“Do you have enough power left?” Adrien says, and his voice is low, temptingly so, enough that dinner is become a secondary thought. “I was sure I exhausted my bit of luck.”

“I think I do, no Lucky Charm necessary,” Marinette whispers, and she kisses _him_ long and deep, smiling.

"Ah, so my bug wants seconds?"

"If they're as good as that, then yes," Marinette says without hesitation, pupils flaring with enthusiasm.

"Well, whatever my Lady Bug wants," Adrien says, and his voice trails off as he reaches for another condom, foil crinkling between the sighs of their kiss.


End file.
